


discovery

by leggyman



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Sleepy Bois Inc
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Based On The Characters Not The People Always, Blood, Depressed TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, General Apathy Towards Bad Situations, Gremlin TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Inspired By "How To Never Stop Being Sad", Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Siblings, Protective Wilbur Soot, Purple Prose, Self-Harm, Shoebills Are So Cool, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Who Do I Need To EMail To Get Phils Tag Fixed, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28882704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leggyman/pseuds/leggyman
Summary: Tommy never planned on being caught - especially by his brother
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 28
Kudos: 750





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> please heed the warnings in the tags!  
> \-----  
> fic inspired by the song "how to never stop being sad" by dandelion hands

Tommy sat at the coffee shop that he tended to frequent by himself, once again. He never ordered coffee, the caffeine not doing much for him energy-wise and the taste overall being awful. Instead, he’d get a fancy, overpriced hot chocolate and occupy a four-person booth for an hour or two each morning. Some days he’d bring homework he neglected to do the night before, or catch up on the material from a class he accidentally slept through. Other days he’d bring his notebook. It was technically a sketchbook, each page unlined and thicker than usual so that markers wouldn’t bleed through.

He littered the sheets with whatever would come to mind. Some pages had lyrics he’d heard Wilbur sing the night before through the walls as he tried to sleep. Some pages had little doodles and patterns and random words that popped into his head that he enjoyed the sound of. Some pages were simply lines upon lines of pure word vomit - incomprehensible even seconds after writing it down. Some pages had old receipts and polaroids taped onto them. Genuinely, the notebook held whatever Tommy wanted it to hold. It was an abstract work of art portraying each emotion and thought he had.

At the moment, Tommy sipped steaming caramel hot chocolate from a reusable cup, scribbling scallop shapes onto a fresh page in blue pen. His upper arms itched like hell, but he resisted the urge to scratch. Cuts from the evening before were scabbing over, and he was wearing one of Techno’s hoodies so he couldn’t risk re-opening the wounds and bleeding onto the sleeves. That’d lead to questions he didn’t want to answer.

He pulled out his phone to check the time as the cafe started to fill up more, which was usually his cue to leave.  _ 7:03 _ . He gathered up his supplies, took the last sip of the chocolate and placed the mug in the holder on the side of his backpack, and made the five-minute walk back to his house.

He smelled his dad making breakfast before he saw it, the scent of bacon and eggs permeating the entire house. Walking into the kitchen, Phil had his back turned towards him, facing the stovetop. Wilbur sat at the kitchen island, looking like he wished nothing more than to go back to bed and sleep for at least four more hours. Tommy’s other brother had yet to make an appearance.

“Welcome back,” Phil greeted brightly, turning around to drop the plate of breakfast in front of his half-asleep middle child, who grumbled out something inaudible but probably akin to ‘thanks’. Tommy’s morning routine wasn’t a secret by any means, and was actually encouraged by the rest of his family. He often stayed contained to his room, so any time he left was treated like a breakthrough in his family’s eyes.

Tommy took his place on the barstool next to Wilbur, catching the plate his dad slid over towards him. His had significantly less food than his brother’s, but that was entirely by choice. He was never hungry in the mornings, whereas both Wilbur and Techno devoured food at breakfast time like they’d never eaten before.

Eventually, Techno meandered his way downstairs into the kitchen, plopping into his own seat. His plate was already waiting for him. It was a rare sight to see how Technoblade appeared in the mornings, a sight reserved almost exclusively for family. If anyone outside of his brothers and father stayed the night (Tubbo and Dream often being the only exceptions), he would take the time to get ready before leaving his room. As it was, Techno’s hair was thrown into a messy bun on the top of his head, random strands and wispys sticking out haphazardly. His rectangular glasses were perched on his nose, slightly crooked as he never did go in to get the nose pads properly adjusted. He wore a faded hoodie with a few holes present at the ends of the sleeves from his incessant nervous chewing on them, and he had flannel pajama pants on that were passed down from so many people they practically became a family heirloom. He looked domestic and unkempt, which was something that Techno purposefully tried to avoid.

The serenity of quiet family breakfast ended as all things did. Tommy gathered up the plates of his brothers, who both appeared to be trying to gather the mental energy to leave their spots, and rinsed them in the sink. He took the extra time before he’d need to leave to check through his backpack, making sure he didn’t leave any worksheets in Wilbur’s room or accidentally swapped notebooks with Techno. He popped his phone case off, checking that his travel blade was still there. He’d need a way to ground himself if his head reacted poorly to something in school. He flopped onto his already-made bed and played solitaire for the remainder of his free time.

“Tommy!” eventually called Techno from downstairs, baritone voice echoing throughout the house. Tommy rolled off his bed and onto the carpeting below him, forearms and knees catching his weight. He’d done it enough times to have perfected the art, cat-like reflexes making no sound. The last time he’d gotten so much as a mark from essentially falling a few feet was a handful of weeks ago, and that wasn’t even from the impact but rather from having forgotten a spiral notebook was next to his bed and his arm landing directly on the metal bit.

He made his way down the stairs, snagging his backpack on the way out and stumbling to put on his shoes on the walk to the car. Techno started the burgundy SUV with his remote start, and Tommy flopped into the back seat. He settled his backpack on his lap, hugging it close to his chest and resting his chin on it. Wilbur and Techno argued back and forth over music, only stopping when Wilbur decided to lick the AUX cord. The twenty-minute drive was silent except for the soft guitar strums and the occasional loving smack and scolding from Techno when Wilbur continuously put his feet up onto the dash. Tommy always preferred the drive to school over the drive back, enjoying the serenity of the quiet journey through the woods. Their family home could be classified as a cottage - waterfront, distanced from other homes nearby, and quite woodsy. The tall trees surrounding both sides of the road combined with the foggy morning air creates a very relaxing atmosphere, only complimented by Techno’s car being just a bit too warm.

Tommy’s reverie was suddenly ended when the passenger side door swung open, Techno once again grumbling about how Wilbur would pay for the door replacement after it received all that abuse. Tommy took that as his own cue to unfold his lanky limbs from their scrunched position and exit the vehicle. He gave a wave to his older brothers, who were struggling to get Wilbur’s guitar and Techno’s tuba case from the boot, and ran to the usual morning meeting spot for his friends.

Tubbo greeted him with a small smile and wave, electing not to interrupt Ranboo’s ranting about his chemistry grade. The bell rang only a few minutes later, and the three teens headed to their individual first-hour classes.

Tommy was the second to make it to the SUV, Techno already sitting in the driver’s seat with the heat turned on and scrolling through his phone. Wilbur would probably be another fifteen minutes, always choosing to ignore the complaints of his brothers and spend time after school socializing in the band room. Tommy pulled out his notebook and began trying to draw an interesting bird that Tubbo had told him about during lunch. He was functioning entirely on memory and had only seen a small handful of pictures of it to begin with, but he was determined to draw the best shoebill the world had ever seen.

Just at the right time - he could feel Techno’s patience boiling over - Wilbur’s shouts of ‘goodbye’ and laughing could be heard outside the car. Before the passenger door was even closed, Techno launched into the expected rant.

“They’re your friends, too,” Wilbur interrupted, “you could join us sometime.”

Techno muttered angrily under his breath and pulled out of the parking space. 

His desk was littered with random sheet music and papers, an incomprehensible disaster to anyone who wasn’t himself. Wilbur tapped the pencil against his chin before furiously erasing the previous eighth note and replacing it with a triplet. He hummed the new tune under his breath and decided that was definitely better. He took a swig of water before moving onto his  _ actual _ work. He had a handful of worksheets that he’d been putting off for a few hours at that point. Honestly, though, who wouldn’t prefer to work on a passion project rather than copying information from random websites about physics?

Subconsciously attempting to continue procrastinating with a reasonable excuse, Wilbur discovered his pencil could stand to be sharpened (the graphite came to a fine point as it was, but if it wasn’t borderline a weapon, it wasn’t sharp enough in his eyes). He fished around the stacks of papers, trying to find the lone yellow pencil sharpener he knew he had, only to find it missing. He pulled open the desk drawers, wondering if his brain decided to put something away  _ for once _ , and still didn’t manage to come across it. One of his brothers must’ve taken it, then.

Wilbur pushed himself out from his desk and crossed the hallway, giving a single knock before bursting into Techno’s room. Techno stared up at him, used enough to his twin’s antics to not be startled but still bitter enough to shoot a glare. He’d asked  _ how _ many times for Wilbur to knock?

Wilbur let out a gentle chuckle at Techno’s angry gaze before asking if he’d taken the sharpener. Techno ripped out one of his earbuds and simply stated ‘no’. A man of few words, he was. Wilbur moved on to the only other possible culprit.

He didn’t bother giving the single knock, as Tommy generally didn’t give him that luxury either. “Oh, Tomathy!” he called as he entered, only to find the room empty. Wilbur took it upon himself to search the room without Tommy, digging around his usual workspace, that being everything piled up on the bedside table as the youngest usually did everything on his bed. According to him, desks were ‘uncomfortable and inhumane’, which was why Wilbur was confused when the pencil sharpener wasn’t to be found. He made his way to the oak desk shoved in the corner of the room, thinking that perhaps Tommy finally conceded and used the  _ perfectly comfortable and humane _ piece of furniture. He rifled through the first drawer, to no avail. The second drawer, though, he saw the yellow piece of plastic. Letting out a little sound of celebration, he picked it up, only to immediately drop it with a vague feeling of horror.

The blade was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was caught

Wilbur spun the yellow plastic between his fingers, internally searching for excuses as to why the blade could be missing. Mentally, he  _ knew _ the answer. Emotionally, he’d grasp at any straw available to hope that his baby brother wasn’t truly… Perhaps he was doing crafts! Tommy had a history of hitting a sappy streak when it came to Tubbo, making him graph paper versions of their individual Minecraft skins and similarly sentimental gifts. He could’ve needed to  ~~ cut ~~ out some paper and maybe that was the only option available. If Wilbur was good at anything, it was music, being able to conjure a campfire with only two sticks, and denying uncomfortable truths. The fact that both a pair of scissors and an X-Acto knife were both clearly in eyesight he mentally shoved aside.

But this wasn’t an issue he could simply ignore with no repercussions towards others. He couldn’t in good conscience know that his brother might be hurting and leave it be. He decided to find a second opinion in the form of someone who wouldn’t panic if the concept was brought up to him. Wilbur made his way back to Techno’s room, this time knocking until Techno gave a verbal pass to enter. The yellow plastic piece was crushed in his right palm, and he could feel his hands shaking slightly. 

Techno immediately took note of the younger’s nerves - Wilbur was astoundingly easy to read. He patiently stared at his brother, waiting for him to take initiative in the conversation. He watched Wilbur let out a single huff and look to the side, attempting to find the right words. After a few moments, he nodded and a resigned expression passed his face.

“I think Tommy’s hurting himself.”

If Techno had to provide a list of things he thought Wilbur might say, that was on about the same level as ‘I’m a father’ (honestly, that option might’ve been more likely in Techno’s eyes). He gave the largest reaction he was capable of giving, which was simply a few confused blinks and a downturn to his lips. Techno asked for proof, only for his brother to throw a bit of yellow onto his desk. It was the missing pencil sharpener Wilbur had accused him of stealing earlier.

And the blade was missing.

This was, in no uncertain terms,  _ bad _ .

  
  


Tommy stood in Tubbo’s bathroom, wiping off the dried blood adorning his biceps with wet toilet paper. A few more marks joined the rest of the others sometime during third period, when Tommy’s breathing started to become shallow and his heart started to speed. He’d dismissed himself to the bathroom and proceeded to ground himself in the only way he knew how: decorating his arms with more grotesque ornaments. None were deep - just enough to sting - but he hadn’t had the proper time to clean up after his mess, settling with brown paper toweling as bandages through the rest of the school day. Once he arrived at Tubbo’s to ‘study’ (play video games), he used the first-aid kit under the sink to give his cuts the proper care.

After his handiwork was successfully dealt with, he headed back into his best friend’s room, the occupant laid across the bed, phone directly above his face. Tommy smirked to himself before smacking the wall, startling Tubbo enough to where he dropped the device square on his forehead. Tommy busted out in full-body laughter as Tubbo sat up, massaging the injury and glaring at his friend. The mean look was much less intimidating when you noticed the smile Tubbo was desperately trying to keep from appearing on his face.

Tommy went to the entertainment stand, picking up two PlayStation controllers and plopping onto the bed. Tubbo snatched a controller from his hands as Tommy booted up Minecraft. They had a console world they only made progress on together at Tubbo’s. It’d existed for long enough to have quite an array of nicely built structures (Tubbo) and towers made of cobblestone with cuss words spelled out in the sky above them (Tommy).

They made about two hours of progress, Tubbo slowly going insane with Tommy’s antics. Tommy had decided to give up on filling in creeper holes, instead placing a sign saying ‘tommy was here’ with various misspellings in them, even dyeing them red so Tubbo could read them easier. It was a messy bit that got much messier the moment Tommy entered the main building area with a posse of creepers on his tail, half of which Tubbo managed to kill before exploding and the other half taking out almost the full front wall of the McTaco Hut (the ultimate fast food restaurant). Placing one sign on top of the other in the wreckage, a tower of ‘tommy was here’s replaced the dark oak wood.

Tubbo’s angry rant and Tommy’s mischievous laugh was interrupted by Tommy’s messages going off. Tommy almost always had his phone on ‘do not disturb’ - constant notifications and the sounds that followed made him nervous and shaky, for some reason - meaning that it had to either be his brothers, his dad, or Tubbo. One option was immediately ruled out, considering he was sat next to him, leaving the other three. Tommy was betting on it being a picture of some interesting sea animal from Wilbur as he opened the text.

‘can u come home soon’ was displayed under Wilbur’s thread of messages. Usually, no one had any issue with Tommy’s random excursions to Tubbo’s, but perhaps his dad had read another article from a parenting newsletter and once again re-deemed family dinners a thing. The plan would usually fall apart by a week max, but the first nights are quite strict on everyone being there. Techno almost failed a chemistry final due to one of Phil’s positive-parenting kicks, ruining the last three-day family dinner streak after throwing a riot in the living room.

‘sure b there soon’. Tommy picked up his bad, hugged his best friend goodbye, and walked the relatively short distance back to his own home. He was thankful that, despite not being necessarily  _ close _ , Tubbo lived  _ close enough _ for a walk to be an acceptable means of transportation. Tommy occupied his time by kicking a small rock along, only to overshoot it off into a pile of twigs. He wasn’t that attached to the pebble and truly didn’t want to mess with the snakes probably inhabiting the pile of twigs, so he accepted the loss and pushed forward.

It was a bit confusing as to why he didn’t smell any form of food upon entrance to the home. Phil always made the first night of family dinner’s meal unnecessarily extravagant, so the lack of spices and simmering in the air was a small cause for alarm. Maybe they were all ordering takeout instead.

Tommy yelled a greeting with a high curse word to normal word ratio. He heard two sets of footsteps make their way down the stairs, one quick and the other a bit more lackadaisical, but with more fervor than usual. He went to meet them halfway before stopping in his tracks as they appeared at the bottom of the staircase. Techno looked as stoic as usual, but upon careful examination, you could find a slight green tone to his face. Wilbur was more openly a mess, eyes red and puffy, cheeks flushed and clearly dried tears still present. He was pale and looked only about a single moment away from his limbs buckling underneath him. His whole body was shaking violently and Tommy was just a second away from telling him to sit down and put the back of his hand against the other’s forehead to see just how sick his brother was when Wilbur presented the small item clenched in his hand.

It was sat in the dead center of his palm, held out like a morbid trophy on a trembling pedestal. The blood drained from Tommy’s face. He knew exactly where the small bit of yellow plastic originated from. He knew it must have been fished out of his bin for it not to be already in the local landfill. It was the smoking gun of his unsavory past time.

The empty pencil sharpener.

Tommy turned and bolted back to the door from which he just entered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think if you'd like :)
> 
> Stay hydrated!!

**Author's Note:**

> hello, I hope you enjoyed (?) uh yeah, writing vent fics with really flowery language is possibly my new favorite thing. i don't quite know how many chapters this will have, it'll probably be a few more but not like crazy stupid amounts. so yeah, thank you for reading!!! stay safe :-)


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